ignoto | SnowBaz Fanfic

- uno -

piangere to mourn verb

feel sorrow due to someone's death.

It's been a couple of years. There's been dozens of chances, folded between hours that make one's life. The sun keeps setting and rising and yet the space I take up remains shrouded in darkness.

I still sit in the overly bright room across from an overly bright, young woman with curling hair and an obvious free spirit. Her skin, darkened by the sun, seems to hold some of its rays just beneath the surface, so that she glows as bright as her smile and keen, sea green eyes. A selection of wooden bangles clink on her forearms as she annotates every dull thing I say like my word is god.

"I think your mother might have an idea," she says after jotting down that last note. Groaning takes too much effort. I slouch with my hands nestled in my lap, sinking into a cushiony sofa crowded with pillows printed with Aztec stripes and dots. Everyone thinks my mother has an idea. I wish for once, someone would listen to me. This entire ordeal is too much for me to handle, that I can't reply.

Miss Loveridge claps her hands atop her clipboard. "Simon, your grades are dropping...and we're all concerned. I want to help you, as does your mother, and everyone else here at Watford. Your depression won't ease unless you make yourself do the things that seem impossible, unless you put yourself out there and try. It's been two years; your brother and father wouldn't want to see you wasting your life like this. Not when you have so much potential." Maybe those words were supposed to make me feel invigorated, determined. Does she expect me to jump up, fists clenched by my sides with flames in my eyes and declare my desire to live? Instead, those words are swallowed by the gaping abyss that resides somewhere near my heart.

She's relentless. "If your grades drop any further, Watford would have no choice but to end your scholarship...this isn't something we want to do." She genuinely sounds worried. "Simon, at this stage, you must help yourself. Where you are now, that's not a nice place. Don't you want to live? Allow us to help, there's no shame in that." She deflates at my vacant look. "I think we'll end this session for today, and I want you to see me next week. Do not skip sessions." Miss Loveridge swivels in her chair and hands me a card. "I've also arranged for you to see our tutor – " I open my mouth but can't think of what to say, she shushes me anyway – "this isn't negotiable. Mr Dalton is an excellent teacher. He'll understand."

Taking the card and nodding is a whole lot simpler than arguing, so I do just that. So I can leave her office without any hassles. The school grounds are quiet with everyone in lessons, and I take my precious time walking back. I feel cold despite the marron jumper and the beating sun.

Asking myself why everyone insists I do certain things is silly. I know why, and that pains me even more. I know why. It's to help me wade my way through this darkness, to experience and live life once more. And yet I don't seem to have the energy to wake up. Currently, I feel like an empty husk deteriorating with the summer breeze. I remember when mum argue I find a job, that'll give me responsibility and purpose. I remember when she pushed me on Penny, that'll make my life seem less lonely. I remember when she enrolled me in cooking class, you used to love cooking. Getting a cat didn't seem so bad, either, expect the general fact of keeping another living thing alive didn't sit well with me, especially since I couldn't even maintain myself. Besides, think of the extra costs when mum can barely support us.

Now she has an even stupider idea.

She'd just come back from parent/teacher interviews, I was already home, in bed. Instead of chewing me out for producing shitter grades than last year, mum merely said: "We're going to host an exchange student." I remember blinking into the darkness, eyelashes scraping my pillow. "I was speaking with Miss Bunce, and she told me how her friend hosted a beautiful Japanese girl...how about it Simon? Doesn't that sound exciting?" she sounded tired and dead, dreading her shift at the bar starting in an hour and a half. She sighed, and I heard it clearly. "We'll talk later," she simmered softly before she scuffed away.

The next day, I actually had it in me to argue back. She was going on and on about how much of a good experience this would be for me, to meet someone not only new, but from a different country. "It'll only be for a month," she insisted, "would that be all that bad?"

"Yes, I don't want someone else, who we don't even know, living in our home." We paused for a moment, as if to acknowledge our little rundown apartment on Brixton road. The sounds of cars rushed in to fill the silence, and even though we're three stories up, I could distinctly smell salt and fish batter from Sue's downstairs. Then she exploded.

"I'M ONLY TRYING TO HELP YOU!" She cried, which stunned me. Mum never cried. "Why won't you let me help you? I'm so fucking sick and tired and I'm grieving as well, you know?! Just give me a hand, will you? Just do this for me!" I swallowed. I didn't want to see her upset. I didn't know how to reach out and comfort her and tell her everything will be ok, because it wasn't. I couldn't tell her I'd do it, that it would help me, that I am recovering and everything she is doing to help me is working. Because it isn't. Nothing is working.

And having another 'masculine figure' in the house hold won't change that.

I don't need a replacement brother. I don't want someone else invading my privacy and giving me extra hassles.

I look around me, at the buildings and the people inside through tinted windows, at the giant tree flourishing with leaves. There's a hint of pies and sausage rolls baking on the air, wafting from the tuck shop. I can feel the wind and sun and hear the trees. I feel so secluded when life is clearly thriving around me. The clouds break apart and I lift my head to the sun as I feel its rays wrap me in warmth. Your brother and father wouldn't want to see you wasting your life like this.

For a moment, I see that hazy sunshine through the fog. 

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This is a little exchange student AU fic I wrote about a year ago that I totally forgot about...and a trip through memory lane led me to find this again - so I thought I'd post it.

Tune in next week for chapter two (due). 

xxx 

Hope